The wonder of inspiration

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It’s always fun to see
Where we glean our inspiration
Especially during those times
Of wordless frustration

Sometimes it’s a word
A picture or a quote
Or other times it’s simply
What someone else wrote

Often it’s the news
A book or a short story
Which gives us the means
To write our own allegory

There are so many things
Which speak to our souls
A writer’s mind
Is never in control

And even these words
Right here on this page
Have come from a place
I cannot gauge

So I sit and enjoy
My mind’s aimless ramble
It’s something I’ve never
Been able to unscramble

© 2018 Michelle Cook

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Word Trollops

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Some people are so free
With the words they say
Seems like they enjoy
Giving everything away

And then there are others
Who aren’t so audacious
They understand the cost
Of being too flirtatious

And still there are others
Who abide halfway
We can’t always tell
What they’re meaning to say

I personally like the ones
Who are somewhere in between
It’s always fun to guess
What they really mean

© 2018 Michelle Cook

 

Brimstone Brew

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Round the cauldron
They all took turns
Blathering their opinions
Cackling their concerns

A quadrivial group
Gossiping away
Nothing but prattle
In which to say

Their brimstone elixir
Fizzled and bubbled
But after listening to their words
The concoction grew troubled

Then with a sudden eruption
And an unforeseen flash
Those four old biddies
Well they all turned to ash

And all anyone can relay
About that unspeakable day
Is that their beloved potion
Must have had some repressed emotion

A reminder to be careful what you say. 😉

© 2018 Michelle Cook


For a month of writing prompts, click here; Brimstone brew

Stolen heart

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Intense longing
Is what I used to feel
For what he took
Was not his to steal

He ran away
My heart in hand
Makes me wonder now
If this was always his plan

Good riddance to you
Is what I now say
I never needed
My heart anyway

For who wants or needs
The potential to be broken
Should have thrown it away
Before it became his token

© 2018 Michelle Cook

Defenseless

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The burden he bore
Gave no time for refute
He’d been given a job
One could not dispute

And poor Lady Jane
In her ashen condition
Seemed far beyond
Any hope of volition

Not a single wish
Could change her fate
The course was set
Her breath too late

And the Lady in wait
Sorrowfully reclined
Pearls in hand
No peace of mind

The room stood still
As time captured the end
Poor Lady Jane
Not a soul would defend

© 2018 Michelle Cook


Photo credit:  https://www.wikiart.org/en/paul-delaroche/the-execution-of-lady-jane-grey-1833

 

Purple Plasma

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I managed to lose him in the purple fog
Against a dull gray view
He’d been sullen all day long
And suddenly withdrew

Without a single cognitive word
His mind trailed away from me
And there he still sits catatonic and drooling
In front of his most cherished plasma sea

© 2018 Michelle Cook



For a month of writing prompts, click here; Purple plasma

Coffin Candy

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She was a real tasty candy apple treat
Loved by all the men she’d often meet

Subtly sexy and radiating desire
Just what every man sought, wanted, and required

But there was a secret which she kept hidden
Something about her, so temptingly forbidden

One nip from her and they’d finally understand
Vampires always have the upper hand

© 2018 Michelle Cook


For a month of writing prompts, click here; Coffin Candy

Consumed

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He sits there watching me
From high above that frosty hill
Each blink and nod sends shivers
Caused by him, not winter’s chill

His tawny piercing stare
Is intimidating and intense
Those massive moon eyes
Cause my body to tense

I realize with just one move
I could be made a satisfying snack
So I begin to scurry away
Not even daring to look back

Unfortunately this is my reality
And I know I’ve now been beaten
Because I’m just a poor field mouse
Who has now been served and eaten

© 2018 Michelle Cook

The sounds of silver lights

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Rainy night
Odd streaks of light
Rainbow flecks
Breathtaking effects
Umbrellas rush
Hearts melt and crush
Sprinkles splatter
Puddles shatter
Silver bells
Cast their spells
The moon shines
Revealing signs
Busyness ensues
Amidst stunning views
Nobody sees
The magic in these

© 2018 Michelle Cook


Writing prompt: The sounds of silver lights

I’ve been thinking about love

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I’ve been thinking about love
And how for a brief moment
I held it in the palm of my hand
I was filled with a hurricane of emotions
Something my heart could barely withstand
So powerful was the force
That it took me by complete surprise
And my heart now wonders
How such a love ever became compromised

© 2018 Michelle Cook

Wilting efforts

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If success is only measured
By man’s own heart
Than what the hell have we been doing
From the very start

We live each day
Trying so hard to get ahead
And with all this mindless shuffling
It’s a wonder we aren’t dead

We scurry and worry
Then we sigh and we cry
While all along never realizing
We’re really just living a lie

Because this isn’t actually living
It’s not about what we’ve done
At the end of the day
We aren’t even having any fun

Instead we’re torturing ourselves
Frustrated by our lack of gain
Each day is just a wilting effort
Driving all of us insane

We’ll never accomplish everything
And never be all we’d like to be
It shouldn’t take our entire lives
For us to finally see

We’ve got to stop measuring our happiness
By the world’s standard views
And take on the dauntless challenge
Of living a life of a whole new hue

Daring to risk it all
Our regular lives might come with a cost
And yet without even trying to change
We forget we’ve already lost

© 2018 Michelle Cook

*This is what my brain produces at 3 am when I can’t sleep.  Lol… Have a great day everyone!  😉  ~M


Writing prompt:  Wilting efforts

The Mystery of Milmonyville

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The town of Milmonyville
Was such a curious place
Lined with quaint shops
Filled with wares of fine taste

It was like stepping back in time
As you walked down the street
And men would tip their hats
To every woman that they’d greet

Most thought it rather odd
That the people were so welcoming
And many would never go back
Because they found it so unsettling

It was almost as if the town
Was too perfect in some regards
Everything was polished and sparkling
Something you couldn’t disregard

And that old town of Milmonyville
Is still a mystery even today
Especially after heaps of bodies
Were found floating in their pristine bay

© 2018 Michelle Cook


Writing prompt: The mystery of Milmonyville

9-11

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In the midst of all the insanity we silently wait for hope

The fog has still not lifted
The faces in the crowds are still much a blur

We can’t quite hear the sad song
Twisting and twirling on the cool night air

But we listen so intently that our hearts begin to bleed

We know the song, its angry notes ringing in the night

It’s a lonesome frightful song that never seems to end

Until we realize the shadows are standing in the corners
Watching and waiting
We will never fully understand our fate

The leaves are turning into dust now
Sliding across the patent leather of our shoes

We try to wipe the dust away

But it’s too late
The damage is done
And all is lost forever in that twisting twirling breeze
From beyond that which we do not know or seek

We do not hear those cries that scream out in the night
But oh how we know they are there

Instead, we hide in darkness
Living and hoping that life will give us one more chance

Praying for mercy
We never fully understand the wickedness of our ways

Until the end, we shall never know

Our fate lies within the creases of our hearts
And our destiny is an unwritten page

© 2018 Michelle Cook


*This is one of the first poems I ever attempted to write.  I decided to leave it as is, even as tempting as it is to rewrite it.  Let us never forget what that day did for this country.  It was one of the worst tragic events we have ever faced, but it also brought unity to our nation like none I’ve ever seen.  We need to find that again.  Let’s not wait for another tragic event to do that; but instead, let’s try to be like that always.  We should all be supporting each other and reaching out to those in need every single day.  It should be something we do for the rest of lives.  ~M xo